‘If you say so.’ Banks stood up with exaggerated slowness. ‘Let’s go, then.’
Katie stepped back until she was flat against the wall. ‘No! If you take me away Sam… Sam’ll…’
‘Come on, Katie,’ Banks said, more gently, ‘don’t be silly.’ He pointed to the chair. ‘Sit down. Tell me about it.’
Katie flopped into the chair by the window and looked down at the floor. ‘There’s nothing to tell,’ she muttered.
‘Let me try and make it a bit easier for you,’ Banks said. ‘Judging by the way you behaved when we talked to you and Sam yesterday, I’d guess that something happened between you and Bernard Allen while he was staying here. Maybe it was personal. You might think it’s your business and it has nothing to do with his death, but I’m the one to be the judge of that. Do you understand?’
Katie just stared at him.
‘You’d known him a long time, hadn’t you?’
‘Since he came to Leeds. We lived next door.’
‘You and Sam?’
‘With his parents.’
‘What happened to your own parents?’
‘They died when I was a little girl. My grandmother brought me up.’ Katie lowered her gaze down to her lap, wringing the yellow duster in her hands.
‘Did you ever go out with Bernie Allen?’
She looked up sharply, and the blood ran to her cheeks. ‘What do you mean? I’m married.’
‘Well, something happened between you, that’s clear enough. Why won’t you tell me what it was?’
‘I’ve told you,’ Katie said. ‘Nothing happened. We were friends, that’s all.’ She went back to twisting the duster on her lap. ‘I’m thirsty.’
Banks brought her a glass of water from the washbasin.
‘Were you lovers, Katie?’ he asked. ‘Did you sleep with Bernard Allen while he was staying here?’
‘No!’ Tears blurred Katie’s clear brown eyes.
‘All right.’ Banks held up his hand. ‘It’s not important. I believe you.’ He didn’t, but he often found it useful to pretend he believed a lie. It was always clear from the teller’s obvious relief that it had been a lie. Afterwards it was easier to get at the information that really mattered. And he had a feeling she was hiding something else.
‘But you spent some time together, didn’t you? Time alone, like friends do?’
Katie nodded.
‘And you must have talked. What did you talk about?’
Katie shrugged. ‘I don’t know, just things. Life.’
‘That’s a broad subject. Anything in particular?’
She was chewing on her bottom lip now, and Banks could sense that she was on the verge of talking. He would have to tread carefully to avoid scaring her off again.
‘It might be important,’ he said. ‘If he was a friend of yours, surely you want his killer caught?’
Katie looked at him as if the idea was completely new to her. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Yes, of course I do.’
‘Will you help me, then?’
‘He talked about Canada, his life in Toronto. What it was like there.’
‘What about it?’
‘How wonderful and exciting it was.’
It was like drawing a confession out of a naughty child. ‘Come on,’ Banks prompted her. ‘There was something special, wasn’t there? You’d have no reason to hide any of this from me, and I know you’re hiding something.’
‘He told me in confidence,’ she said. ‘I wasn’t to tell anyone. Sam’ll kill me if he finds out.’
‘Why?’
‘He doesn’t like me talking to people behind his back.’
‘Look, Katie. Bernard is dead. Somebody murdered him. You can’t keep a secret for a dead man, can you?’
‘Life doesn’t end with death.’
‘Maybe not. But what he said might be important.’
There was a long pause while Katie seemed to struggle with her conscience; each phase of the skirmish flashed across her flawless complexion. Finally, she said, ‘Annie was there. That’s what he told me. Annie was in Toronto.’
‘Annie?’
‘Yes. Anne Ralston. She was a friend of Bernie’s from years ago. She disappeared when we had all that trouble here five years back.’
‘I’ve heard of her. What exactly did Bernard say?’
‘Just that she was living in Toronto now. He’d heard from her about three years ago. She was in Vancouver then. They’d kept in touch, and now she’d moved.’
‘Did he say anything else about her?’
Katie looked at him blankly. ‘No. She just asked him not to go telling everyone in Swainshead that he’d seen her.’
‘This is what Bernard told you?’
‘Yes.’
‘Why did he tell you, do you think, when Anne had told him not to tell anyone?’
‘I… I… don’t know,’ Katie stammered. ‘He trusted me. He was just talking about people leaving, finding a new life. He said she was happy there.’
‘Were you talking about wanting a new life for yourself?’
‘I don’t know what you mean.’
Her words lacked conviction. Banks knew he was right. Katie had probably been telling Bernard Allen that she wanted to get away from Swainshead. Why she should want to leave he didn’t know, but from what he’d seen and heard of Sam so far, she might have one good reason.
‘Never mind,’ Banks said. ‘Did he say anything about coming home to stay?’
Katie seemed surprised. ‘No. Why should he? He had a wonderful new life out there.’
‘Did he tell you this on the morning he left or before?’
‘Before. Just after he arrived.’
‘And you were the only one he told?’
‘Yes.’
‘You’re hesitating, Katie. Why?’
‘I… I don’t know. You’re confusing me. You’re making me nervous.’
‘Were you the only one he told?’
‘As far as I know, yes.’
‘And who did you tell?’
‘I didn’t tell anyone.’
‘You’re lying, Katie.’
‘I’m not. I—’
‘Who did you tell? Sam?’
Katie pulled at the duster so hard it tore. ‘All right, yes! I told Sam. He’s my husband. Wives aren’t supposed to keep secrets from their husbands, are they?’
‘What did Sam say?’
‘Nothing. He just seemed surprised, that’s all.’
‘Did he know Anne Ralston?’
‘Not well. It was only about a year after we arrived that she disappeared. We met her with Bernie, and she was going out with Stephen, but Sam didn’t know the Colliers as well then.’
‘Are you sure you told no one else?’
‘No one,’ Katie whispered. ‘I swear it.’
Banks believed her.
Sam Greenock, he reflected, was quite a one for passing on news, especially to his cronies in the White Rose, with whom he seemed intent on ingratiating himself. Socially, he was beneath them all. The Colliers were cocks of The Head, and Fletcher owned quite a bit of land. Stephen Collier, as Katie said, had been going out with Anne Ralston around the time she disappeared, which had also been coincidental with the murder of Raymond Addison, the London private detective. Somewhere, somehow, Sam Greenock was involved in it all.
What if Sam had told Stephen that Bernard Allen had been in touch with Anne? And what if she was in a position to tell Allen something incriminating about Collier, something to do with the Addison murder? That would certainly give Stephen a motive. And if that was what had happened, to what extent was Sam Greenock an accessory? For the first time, there seemed to be the strong possibility of a link between the murders of Raymond Addison and Bernard Allen. This would certainly interest Superintendent Gristhorpe, who had withdrawn into his usual role because the two cases hadn’t seemed connected.
‘Thank you, Katie,’ Banks said, walking to the door. ‘You’d better keep our rooms for us. I think we’ll be back this evening.’